


an innumerable amount

by ideare



Series: in otherwordlies [5]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Lowercase, Missing Scene, Young Amelia Pond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 21:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6130497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideare/pseuds/ideare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>as if someone will hear her across all those empty galaxies.<br/>---<br/>even with everyone doubting her, amelia still remembers the stars.</p><p>"if something can be remembered, it can come back." - 11</p>
            </blockquote>





	an innumerable amount

**Author's Note:**

> Nubivagant  
> (adj.) moving among clouds

"do you think there are still stars? somewhere out there, too far away for us to see?" amelia is lying on rory's wooden deck, her hands splayed out to block out the moon above them.

rory's eyes are closed, but he rolls them anyway. "there never were, amy." he's not even trying to hide how tired he is. he's cold, too; they've been lying down for over an hour out here, and the empty gaps between the planks are more uncomfortable than the planks themselves.

"there used to be though. before... before _everything_. there used to be hundreds, or maybe even thousands – no, millions of stars before!" amelia stretches both of her arms outwards like she's trying to hug the world. 

"an innumerable amount," rory supplies with his eyes still closed. he doesn't really understand what amelia's on about; streetlights and the moon, he is familiar with, but – even with all of amelia's illustrations – he can't quite picture what a star would be like. 

amelia nods as she reaches blindly around herself, her eyes never leaving the sky, and catches the corner of her latest painting. she tugs at it, and rory grunts, arching his back slightly so she can pull it free from under him. she lifts the painting up and holds it against the night sky. it's not perfect – the stars are too yellow, too big – but it helps her remember. 

"twinkle, twinkle, little star. how i wonder where you are..."

"more like, _what_ you are," rory mumbles around a yawn. 

amelia stays quiet, but hope blooms in her more painfully than it ever has. _exactly_ , she thinks, lowering her painting. 

the sky is different from when there was too much light below and she could barely make out a handful of stars. an unsettling feeling makes her stomach lurch as if she missed a step on the way down a staircase.

"i remember," she whispers into the spaces where the stars should be. 

_i remember_. it is loud and clear in her mind, like a command. as if someone will hear her across all those empty galaxies.

**Author's Note:**

> written for challenge #4b, ['in otherwordlies'](http://allthingsfandom.livejournal.com/43391.html), over at [allthingsfandom](http://allthingsfandom.livejournal.com) on lj.
> 
> this one got away from me.


End file.
